Thursday, January 20, 2011

The aforementioned bruisers were of no further help later that evening.

"Hey, have you seen John?"

"Mistah Mayers inniz quarters."

"Quarters? Really?"

"Ya."

"Alright. Thanks."

My second step led me into a shoulder-to-shoulder collision, which may have done some permanent damage.

"Mayerz ain't available."

"Just goin’ to ask him about my capo."

Bruiser looked confused.

"I left a thing on the mic stand and he might have it."

"Mayer aint no theif."

"Right. Right. I'm sure he's not. It still might be in a case or--"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Nope."

"Nice chatting with you."

Deviousness came next. Dana, our road manager at the time, had beautiful eyes, hands, legs, uh, everything she had two of were rather fantastic. Dana went to make friends with Bruiser.

Her approach, as seen from behind, was dramatic in itself. Her hips shifted like liquid. She walked a line, dead straight, ending where her nose about touched Bruiser’s chest, and then she put three fingers on his man mammary.

I could tell she was playing the sex card. Her fingers were drawing squiggles on his black shirt and her hips never had stopped that back-and-forth. Dana was and is a true fan of what we do musically. Clearly. We didn't pay her enough for this.

Perhaps if we had, she'd have broken through the Bruiser Wall. No such luck. Turns out Bruiser One and Two were paid better than Dana.

I could imagine my capo, clutched tightly to the neck of a Gibson, brand new strings cutting at its belly. Poor little guy. Stay strong. I'm coming for you.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

My band had just finished warming up the stage for the soon-to-be uber-popular John Mayer and his band of brown-nosers. I was enjoying the trappings of the post-show green room when it dawned on me. Shit. My capo is still on the mic stand.

To the average musician, a capo is a replaceable object - A piece of reinforced plastic that can be purchased for about the price of a dozen sliders at White Castle. But this was no ordinary capo. To me it was special, it was different, it was... talented.

I tossed aside the bowl of all blue M&M’s and scurried up the staircase leading to the stage. But alas, the route to my capo was blocked by two very beastly members of John's entourage - "No one on da stage whilst Mista Mayahh is in his performannst". I could hear the opening sounds of John Mayer serenading his hoard of teeny-bopping soon-to-be-unsatisfied daddy’s girls, but struggled to see past the brutish blockade. Before being removed from my post via unnecessary force, I managed to sneak a peak, and to my horror, I saw that the mic stand which had previously been the resting place for my lucky capo was now vacant.

Flash forward to the end of Mayer’s 45 minute set - bodies were wonderlands and fathers were good to their daughters. As John was whisked off the stage to avoid temptation (ie: contact with his horde of adoring adolescents), I slipped back onto the empty stage. My heart sank as my darkest fear was confirmed - my capo was gone.

To be fair, I never saw Mr. Mayer take my capo. But certain facts are indisputable - First, my capo was on the mic stand when I exited the stage. Second - John Mayer uses a capo on at least a handful of his songs. Third - John Mayer skyrocketed to fame shortly after my capo magically disappeared, while I have been relegated to the pool of talented yet unrecognized aspiring musicians.

In conclusion - Both the capo and John Mayer's success should be mine. This story marks the start of my campaign to have the capo returned to its rightful owner, and this here blog will - among other things - chronicle my endeavors to get it back.